


Utah and Everything After

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: gilesxander, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-02
Updated: 2008-07-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: The first night out of Sunnydale, Xander got something he thought he'd wanted. It didn't go the way he planned. Features Epic Misunderstandings (and a Cat).





	Utah and Everything After

There had to be a way to subtly suggest that they check out the realtor for possible demonic origins, Xander thought. Nobody could be fully human and  _that_  good at finding the worst possible apartment that, simultaneously, had nothing Xander could object to.   
  
It had everything they'd asked for: two bedrooms, a room--technically the dining room--that could be turned into an office-slash-library for Giles, an entrance directly from outside so the neighbors would be less likely to notice heavily armed people coming and going in the middle of the night, washer and dryer hookups so they could wash blood and demon slime out of their clothes without freaking people out at the laundromat. And all for thirty bucks a month less than what Giles said they could afford.   
  
It would have been perfect, except for one thing: it was small. The bedrooms were too small for Xander to want to hang out in it while he was awake; the kitchen table was only big enough for two people, which made it hard to ignore the other person sitting at it; and once you fit a couple of bookshelves (Giles apparently had a  _lot_  of stuff in storage, and Xander wasn't looking forward to helping to unpack it), a stereo, and a TV set into the living room, there had only been room for a couch.   
  
Nice and cozy for one person, or for two people who didn't mind getting up close and personal. But for somebody who would have given his  _other_  eye to be able to avoid the guy who was both his boss  _and_  the guy Xander had had a completely humiliating one-night stand with, it was hell.   
  
A week ago, he'd have been totally okay with sharing an apartment with Giles. In fact, somewhere under the terror and the near-certainty that they were all going to die, there would have been a corner of his brain  _hoping_  for an apartment this… cozy. This likely to require Xander to spend a lot of time in a position where he and Giles would be accidentally bumping into one another.   
  
Of course, a week ago, Xander hadn't had the fun of waking up in the morning, feeling--for the first time in a long time--that things were going to get  _better_  from then on, and then realizing that Giles  _felt sorry for him._  That everything Xander had been building up in his mind as the start of something new and exciting and--okay, a little scary, but good--had, in  _Giles'_  mind, just been a… well, a pity fuck.   
  
A week ago, Xander wouldn't have thought that was Giles' style, but now, he knew better.   
  
And now he was standing in his closet-sized bedroom, wondering what he should be doing. He'd hung up his clothes--not that he'd had many--and put his socks and underwear away in the rickety dresser they'd bought at Goodwill. Giles seemed pretty definite on his chances of being able to get access to the Council's funds  _eventually_ , but "eventually" wasn't "now," and for now, they were as broke as Xander had been the year he spent in his parents' basement.   
  
Broke, in a tiny apartment, with the one guy he'd just as soon never have to look in the eye again. His life just didn't  _get_  better than that.   
  
Giles was helping Buffy and Dawn get their own load of Goodwill furniture and Wal-Mart electronics into their apartment, but Xander had claimed that he had a headache, rubbing his temple on the side with the eyepatch and trying not to feel guilty that he was using his eye as an excuse to get out of work. If he had to spend another few hours trying to work alongside Giles without talking to or looking at him, he  _would_  have a headache, after all.   
  
Eventually, he decided he might as well go outside for a while. Fresh air might not help, but it couldn't hurt. At least they had a backyard. Not much of one, and not exclusively theirs, but there was a yard, with a couple of trees and somebody's tomatoes growing in flowerpots next to the fence, and steps Xander could sit on and enjoy the early summer sunshine and not think about how he was going to manage to live with Giles without going crazy.   
  
He'd have moved in with Andrew if he could, but Andrew's place was a tiny, dark studio apartment upstairs from a Chinese grocery store, and there was no way he could have shared one room with Andrew. And everyone else had at least one other person living with them, so to explain why Xander wanted to move in with them when he had a perfectly good apartment of his own, he'd have to explain the thing with Giles, and he didn't want to do that.   
  
He might have, once, but that was before he'd known that it was going to be completely humiliating. Now, he was glad there were only two of them who knew, and one of them seemed to have already forgotten all about it.   
  
Xander just wished he wasn't the  _other_  one.   
  


****

  
  
He'd only meant to stay outside for a little while--the kitchen was kind of gross, and he figured he'd feel less guilty for skipping out on the furniture-schlepping if he'd done something useful by the time Giles got home. But then he'd gotten distracted; he hadn't realized how long he'd spent out here until the back door opened, and he turned his head to see Giles.   
  
Giles gave him a tense smile, and Xander forced himself to smile back. "The neighbors are friendly," he said, skritching the cat on his lap behind the ears. "At least, this one is. He just came up and shoved his head under my hand for me to pet him." At least, Xander thought it was a he. He wasn't interested enough in accuracy to do any closer examination. The cat was huge and orange and not obviously mangy, and that was all Xander needed to know.   
  
Giles sat down on the steps next to Xander, and Xander slid over--just slightly, but enough so there were a couple of inches of space between them. Just enough. "Who does he belong to?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "No idea. I don't think he's a stray, though--see? He has a collar." Xander hadn't given it a lot of thought before; the cat was healthy-looking and obviously well fed, so he'd assumed the cat would get some attention and then move on, but now he turned the collar until he could read the tag hanging from it. "His name is Peanut, and he lives--" He frowned, tilting his head to make sure he got a good look at the tag. "Okay, we might have a problem."   
  
Giles frowned as well. "What's the matter?"  
  
"His tag says he lives here. Not just in the building; in our apartment. It could be a typo, I guess, but if you went to the trouble to get your cat an ID tag…"  
  
"Then you'd presumably want the tag to be correct," Giles said, sighing as he got back to his feet. "I'll call the estate agent. She may have a way to contact the last tenants."  
  
"And until then, we have a roommate?" Peanut shoved his head against Xander's hand again to remind him that he wasn't doing his job, and Xander obediently started petting him again. It wouldn't be so bad to have a cat, Xander thought. At least he'd have one roommate who liked him.   
  
"I suppose so." Xander wondered what Giles was sounding so disappointed about. He wasn't the one who'd just been appointed cuddle-slave to a twenty-pound cat.   
  
Then again, there were a lot of things Xander thought sounded like a good idea that Giles had already made it clear he wanted nothing to do with, so it shouldn't have surprised him all that much when there was another one.   
  


****

  
  
  
Xander had attempted to stand in front of the cat protectively--not because he thought Giles was actually going to  _hurt_  Peanut, but more as a dramatic gesture. Maybe he should have let Peanut in on his plans, though, because Peanut rubbed against Xander's legs, purring happily and completely unaware that his entire future was in question.   
  
"No, I'm  _not_  suggesting we take him to the pound," Giles said, folding his arms and frowning at Xander. "We can keep him here until we find another home for him. I just think we should call the newspaper and--"  
  
"He  _has_  a home," Xander said. "This one. It's bad enough that his owners just left them here when they moved. Now we're going to kick him out?"   
  
"We can't keep him."   
  
"Why not?" Not that Xander had ever wanted a pet; he figured there were times he could barely take care of himself, let alone a cat. But Peanut wasn't a kitten; he'd spent the afternoon sleeping in a patch of sun on the back porch, which wasn't exactly high maintenance. And, well, it might be nice to have someone around to talk to. He used to be able to talk to Giles, some--back when the girls were in college, before he and Anya had been serious--but it was obvious  _that_  wasn't going to be happening again. And after that, he'd had Anya--but even without what had happened in that Motel 6 in Utah, Xander was thinking it'd be a bad idea for him to try to date anyone else right now.   
  
When you factored the Motel 6 in, he thought "right now" might translate into "ever."   
  
"You know what our lives are like," Giles said. "We can't take the responsibility for a pet."  
  
"He's a cat," Xander said. "Food, clean litter, some love. It's not like a dog needing to be taken for walks and stuff."  
  
"I wouldn't mind a dog. At least a dog could help protect the place when we're away."   
  
Xander looked at him for a few seconds, shaking his head. He never would have figured Giles as a dog person. Cats, sure. Cats were quiet and clean and would sit on the couch next to you while you read musty old books. Dogs barked and chewed things and needed to be walked, and while all of that was fine--it wasn't like Xander hated dogs--it just didn't seem like  _Giles_.   
  
A lot of things that hadn't seemed like Giles to Xander had turned out to be  _exactly_  like Giles, after all, though. "It's my house too, and I'm keeping the cat," he said. "You can ignore him if you want to."   
  
Giles sighed, just a little louder than Xander thought was necessary. "I'll do my best," he said, which was Peanut's cue to go over and stretch one paw up, batting at Giles' hand to demand attention.   
  
That got another sigh from Giles, and Xander decided now would be a good time to go and buy cat food, before he told Giles that he got the point, really, Giles didn't have to reject Xander's  _cat_  just to make sure Xander understood the situation.   
  


****

  
  
Two weeks later, even the cat had betrayed him, choosing to spend his nights curled up on the foot of Giles' bed and his days sleeping on the couch next to Giles as he worked. Xander might have gotten some enjoyment out of seeing Giles get annoyed at his orange fuzzy shadow, but no matter how much Giles had complained about them keeping the cat in the first place, he didn't seem to mind having Peanut around now, idly petting the cat as he went through the envelopes stuffed full of legal paperwork the Council's lawyers had sent over from England.   
  
Xander had sat down at the other end of the couch, going through the classified ads and wondering how long it would be before Giles noticed that he was looking for a job. He could help fight evil after work and on his days off, just like he had in Sunnydale, but the sooner he had an income that had nothing to do with the Council, the faster he'd be in his own apartment, away from the guy who yanked his hand away like he'd been burned when Xander's fingers accidentally bumped his as they both tried to pet Peanut at the same time.   
  
Sure. The  _cat_  grew on him. Xander, apparently, was just as repulsive as he'd always been.   
  
Getting out of here was looking better and better all the time.   
  


****

  
  
Xander tried to tell himself that it wasn't fair to blame Giles. They'd both been pretty messed up that night: bruised and battered and exhausted and heartsick over the number of people they'd left behind, and Xander supposed it was a cheesy romance-novel cliché for them to have found themselves kissing, Xander backed up against the sink, his hands first gripping the Formica counter, and then coming up to cup Giles' face, keeping him close.   
  
It had been a weird thing, something neither of them had planned on; just a reaction to stress and fear and the guilty exhilaration of realizing they were both still alive.   
  
It wasn't Giles' fault that while  _he_  had woken up that morning with an obvious "Oh, shit, what did I do?" reaction, Xander had been hoping for something more.   
  
And Giles had been decent about the whole thing, after that first stammered, horrified apology. He hadn't mentioned it, had just kept going like nothing had ever happened--except when Xander got too close, which, again, was more Xander's fault than his.   
  
It wasn't fair to blame Giles for any of that. And it wasn't fair that, when Giles knocked on his bedroom door to tell him that he'd cooked dinner and there was far too much for one, Xander had suddenly been so  _pissed off_  at Giles for being able to be so... so  _normal_  about all of this that he'd yelled, "Not hungry," no matter how loudly his stomach had been growling from the smells that had been wafting in from the kitchen.   
  
When he came out later to find that Giles had left him a plate, he'd fed the chicken on it to Peanut and made himself a sandwich.   
  
  
The expression "cutting off your nose to spite your face" drifted through his mind, but he didn't care. It made him feel better, and that was good enough for him.   
  


****

  
  
"Hey, what's this?" Buffy asked, picking up the folded newspaper Xander had left by the phone, a yellow highlighter circle around the ads he'd spent the morning calling for more information.   
  
Xander thought about going for sarcasm, but decided to just shrug. "Want ads?"   
  
She frowned, hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter. "I thought Giles was going to be able to get to some of the Council's bank accounts soon."   
  
He pulled out a chair, turning it so he could face her. "Yeah. He's flying over there next week." Xander didn't pay much attention to what Giles was doing, normally, but knowing that he'd have several days alone in the house,  _without_  the constant reminder of how stupid he'd been, was never a bad thing.   
  
"So what's with the want ads?"   
  
He shrugged. "I figure somebody ought to have a non-Council source of income." It sounded good, at least, as long as Buffy didn't ask him to explain why. It would have made sense, a few years ago--but a few years ago, the Council wouldn't have hired any of them, and Giles wouldn't have been the boss. These days, they wouldn't get fired unless they did something unbelievably awful.   
  
Okay, from Giles' reaction, it was possible that Xander had already been unbelievably awful, but that wasn't what he meant.   
  
"Don't worry," he went on. "I'll still be helping. You know I wouldn't turn my back on you like that. I just need to be doing something I'm at least halfway qualified for."   
  
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Buffy said. "Remember--field experience?"   
  
The only thing he could think to do was to shrug again. "Yeah, I know, but still. I don't think I'm cut out to be a mini-Giles." Never mind that just a few weeks ago--even when they'd first gotten to Cleveland--he'd liked the idea. He'd had time to think now, and he knew it'd be better for everybody if he had somewhere to be that didn't involve hanging around Giles very much.   
  
Buffy shook her head. "You know, there are days I don't think I'm cut out for  _my_  job, either, but--"  
  
"I know," Xander interrupted. "You're the--I mean,  _a_  Slayer, you don't get to quit, so why do I get to?" He pushed his chair back a little, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not quitting, though. I'm still going to be right there whenever you need me. You know that."   
  
She sighed, but she gave him a quick smile. "Yeah, I know you will," she said, and he smiled back. "It's just--I'm worried about you. I mean, I know, it's going to take you some time to adjust after what happened to Anya, but--"  
  
"I'm okay," Xander said, wanting to stop that line of conversation. Not that he didn't miss Anya. Not that he wouldn't have done anything in his power to save her, if it had been possible. But it was hard to explain how things had been, at the end, between him and Anya, without explaining stuff he didn't want to get into.   
  
Buffy looked doubtful, so he repeated himself. "Really. I'm okay. I miss her, of course I miss her, but I'm going to be fine."   
  
"You don't seem fine," she said. "You've been avoiding us. The other night when we went after that slime demon--that was the first time I'd even seen you in two weeks."   
  
Had he? Sort of, he realized. He'd been avoiding Giles, and that sometimes meant that he was avoiding everybody else, too; even when they came over here, sometimes it was just easier to stay out of the way.   
  
But that sucked, and Xander would be damned if he'd let Giles being an asshole get in the way of Xander's relationships with his friends. They were his friends too. He might have been stupid and screwed things up with Giles, but he wasn't going to screw up the only other thing he had going for him.   
  
Xander shook his head. "I just needed some down time," he said. "From now on, I'm back in action." He grinned at her; it felt forced at first, but when Buffy grinned back, it started to feel more natural.   
  
He wished he could tell Buffy and Willow what was going on with him. If it had been anyone but Giles, he would have; he'd already hinted around to Willow, after she'd given him crap for something he'd said, that he wasn't exactly straight, so he figured Buffy knew, too. And if any other guy in the universe had had sex with him and then wanted to pretend it hadn't happened, he figured Willow would bake him cookies and Buffy would offer to beat the guy up and then they'd watch incomprehensible television--they hadn't found Bollywood on TV here, but  _telenovelas_  would do--and he'd start to feel better.   
  
But it was Giles, and they had to work with him. It was bad enough that things were awkward between  _him_  and Giles; he didn't want to make things weird with Giles and the others.   
  
Maybe he ought to get out more, make some friends who had nothing to do with vampire slaying.   
  
Maybe, he thought, he shouldn't have come to Cleveland at all. Faith had gone out in the field, and once Wood was back on his feet, he was going to be joining her. Xander could have taken an assignment in Wyoming or something--and once the new Council had more money available, in Bolivia or Thailand or somewhere else where he'd never, ever have to deal with this again.   
  
But he hadn't, and he did, and so he lifted Buffy down from the counter and suggested that they go find Willow and Dawn and order some pizza.   
  
At least he still had his friends, Xander thought, and that was more than a lot of people could say.   
  


****

  
  
Giles was an idiot.   
  
Not for what had happened in Utah; Xander wasn't quite self-confident enough to say that anyone who turned him down had to be an idiot. But because he'd had this stupid,  _stupid_  plan to track down people who used to work for the Council, but had quit or been fired before the First Evil had decided to wipe out as many Watchers as possible.   
  
Some of the stuff Giles had been talking about over breakfast the day before he'd left for England made sense, not that Xander had told him that; he'd concentrated on his cornflakes and pretended to be deaf. Giles might as well have been talking to the cat.   
  
Actually, now that Xander thought about it, Giles might actually have been talking to the cat. He definitely didn't talk to  _Xander_  all that often, any more--not exactly surprising, but strangely disappointing. Or maybe not so strangely.   
  
The other thing that was disappointing-- _recently_  disappointing--about Giles was this plan of his. Okay, Xander was willing to accept that a lot of the people who'd left the Council in the past several years had either pissed Quentin Travers off, or been too pissed off  _by_  him to keep working for him. Xander had met the man. He could definitely see that as a possibility. And now that the Council was new and improved and at least seventy-five percent less obnoxious, Xander could see those people being happy to come back. And it wasn't like they didn't  _need_  more Watchers, because they definitely did.   
  
But there was another group of ex-Watchers who'd been fired for being  _dangerous psychos_ , or had Giles forgotten all about Ms. Post? Giles had been confident that he'd be able to tell one group from the other, confident enough that when Willow reported that she'd been able to track down a few ex-Watchers--two in London, one in New York--Giles had decided his trip to London to deal with the Council's finances would be a perfect time to meet up with these people.   
  
Alone. Without backup. Buffy would have gone with him. Willow would have gone with him. Hell,  _Xander_  would have gone with him, and Xander wasn't even comfortable eating dinner with him, these days.   
  
But no, Giles had to go alone. And Giles, to be honest, didn't always have the best instincts about people. He'd trusted Ms. Post, after all. And he'd thought that what Xander needed back in Utah was a one-night stand with the guy he'd recently realized he was in love with.   
  
And now Giles was late getting back from his trip--not just "delayed at the airport" late, but a whole day late, heading for "file a missing persons report" late, and Xander was afraid he wasn't even going to get the chance to  _tell_  Giles he was a fucking moron.   
  
Buffy was out with a group of Slayers on a training exercise, and Willow had managed to get admitted to a community college for the summer, getting up to speed again after her screwed-up academic record of the past couple of years; she had a night class and a physics test coming up, and Xander wasn't going to distract her just to freak out at her. Once he thought of something they could actually  _do_ , maybe.   
  
Besides, he was afraid that when he freaked out at her, he was going to do it in ways that let her know that he had--in the past, not now, not after Utah--been way more concerned about Giles than he would be about most people. Even people he liked. If he was going to do that, he'd rather wait until he had  _some_  kind of a suggestion of what they should do, beyond running around in circles flailing their arms like a frightened Muppet.   
  
He could do  _that_  just fine on his own.   
  
Maybe he should just go to bed. Giles would probably be back in the morning, and Xander would have more stamina for yelling at him if he'd had a good night's sleep.   
  


****

  
  
"Xander, it's three in the morning," Willow mumbled, yawning into the phone.   
  
Xander stifled his own yawn--stupid reflex--and said, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep." He tried kicking the tangle of sheets off his feet and failed miserably. He'd have to wait until he had both hands free to free himself from the man-eating bed. Right now, with the phone in one hand and Peanut shoving his head under his other hand, demanding attention, he was just going to have to stay trapped.   
  
"I have a test tomorrow," Willow said. "I'm not reading you a bedtime story." In the background, he could hear Kennedy's voice, and then Willow murmuring, "No crisis. Go back to sleep."   
  
"What do you mean, no crisis?" Xander demanded. "Giles is being held hostage by some psycho ex-Watcher! Or kidnapped by a demon cult! Or killed by vampires, or, or--or something!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Willow asked. At least she sounded more alert. "What makes you think something happened to Giles?"   
  
"He's not back yet! He was supposed to be back yesterday--no, the day before yesterday, now. Thirty-one hours ago, and I've called the airlines and the planes landed on time and  _he's not back yet._ "  
  
"Of course he's not back yet," Willow said, still sounding way too calm for someone who'd just been told that her friend and boss had gone missing. "The estate sale's not until tomorrow; he won't be back until Friday at the earliest."   
  
Xander frowned. "Okay, you're speaking English, so how are you still not making sense?"   
  
"He called," Willow said. "Somebody with a big library of supernatural references just died, and Giles is sticking around for the estate sale." She paused, and Xander could almost hear her frown when she went on, "You knew that, right?"   
  
"Yeah," he said immediately. "Of course I did. I just…forgot." Which was not the smoothest lie in the history of lies, but he wasn't about to tell Willow that the guy Giles shared an apartment with wasn't important enough to be told that Giles had added several days onto his trip.   
  
He sighed. "I'm sorry, Will. Go back to sleep."  
  
"You owe me coffee," Willow said. "An extra-large mochaccino with whipped cream."   
  
At least she didn't sound mad. "Definitely. And a doughnut. Delivered to your house tomorrow morning, I promise."   
  
Once he'd said goodbye and hung up the phone, Xander managed to straighten his sheets out enough that he could lie back down and pull them over him again. Any hope he had of going back to sleep evaporated, though, when he couldn't stop planning out exactly what he was going to say to Giles when he got back home.   
  
Seriously, what the hell was that about? Xander wasn't even good enough to tell that he'd changed his plans? Xander wasn't worth calling? And Xander had thought  _he_  was the one who was taking way too long to get over what had happened between them.  _Giles_  was the one playing stupid petty games that left Xander tossing and turning for half the night, sure that Giles was lying  _dead_  somewhere.   
  
When Giles got back, Xander was going to give him a piece of his mind. And then,  _finally_ , he was going to get over Giles for good.   
  


****

  
  
This wasn't exactly "giving Giles a piece of his mind," Xander thought, distantly, before pushing it aside as unimportant. He'd definitely  _meant_  to do just that, but then Giles had walked in, tired-looking but very much alive, and whatever Xander had been about to say was forgotten.  
  
He did manage to get out, "Don't do that to me again," before he reached the other side of the room, where he could put his arms around Giles and kiss him and give up on trying to talk at all.   
  
Then--and he should have been able to predict this, should've known how this would end--Giles' hands closed on his forearms, gently but very obviously pushing him away. "What on earth are you doing?" Giles said, and it turned out, that was enough to remind Xander of why he was pissed off at Giles in the first place.   
  
"You mean besides wondering if you were being tortured by some demon cult? Not much. That took a lot of my time, and you want to know the funny part?" There was absolutely nothing on Giles' face that suggested he did want to know the funny part, but Xander couldn't bring himself to give a damn right now. "Turns out you were just fine.  _I_  just didn't matter enough to tell."   
  
"I told Buffy and Willow I was going to be late coming back," Giles said; "it isn't as if I suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth."   
  
"You didn't tell me!"  
  
"I was under the impression that you'd appreciate a few extra days without my presence," he said, which was not wrong, but that was  _so_  not the point. Also, Xander was pretty sure that was the exact tone of voice Giles had used in that motel room, telling Xander he was sorry, and this would never happen again. He'd wanted to punch something then, too.   
  
Xander tried to be the guy who calmed down pissed-off construction workers when stuff had gone wrong on the job site, and not the guy who wanted to yell at Giles for a while longer, and then maybe kiss him again, and then yell some more. "Right. Because  _I_  wouldn't worry if you just didn't come home from a trip to England." He snorted. "You know better than that."  
  
"Do I?" Giles took off his jacket, hung it in the coat closet just like they were having a conversation about the weather. Just like he'd been doing that whole summer, being calm and matter-of-fact and, as far as Xander was concerned, a heartless son of a bitch. "Given that you haven't wanted to be in the same room with me since--" He broke off, then, shaking his head.   
  
"Right," Xander said. "Because that has everything to do with me wanting you dead, and isn't at  _all_  about--" He stopped, too, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. Did he even want to do this? If he walked off now, Giles would probably let it go, just like he hadn't wanted to talk about what happened between them. If he kept on going--well, he'd just have to hope one of the places he'd sent his resume to was interested in a one-eyed carpenter, and he could move out sooner instead of later.   
  
Ah, hell, he thought. It wasn't like Giles wouldn't be able to put two and two together, from the kissing and the yelling. He might as well go ahead. "Hey, I get it, okay? What happened with us--you felt sorry for me, things got out of hand, you woke up and thought, 'Oh, shit, why did I do that?'" He shrugged. "But expecting me not to  _mind_ \--that's totally unfair."   
  
Giles sighed, walking over to the couch and sitting down. Out of nowhere, Peanut appeared and climbed up onto his lap; Giles didn't even seem to notice that he'd started petting the cat. Xander didn't sit down; he paced in front of the couch, trying not to look at Giles. "I realize that," Giles said. "But by the time I realized that I had taken advantage of your state of mind, it was too late to do anything about it. You've every right to be furious, of course, but I'd hoped that in time…" He shook his head again. "Obviously, I was wrong."   
  
Xander stopped, turning around to frown at Giles. "Okay, are we even talking about the same thing, here?" he said. "Because I was talking about us having sex."  
  
"Yes," Giles said. "Precisely."   
  
"So where does the taking advantage of me come in? I'm pretty sure I wanted to be there."   
  
"You'd just been through a terrible experience," Giles said. "You needed comfort, not--" He paused again. "Xander, I am sorry. I suspect I wasn't thinking clearly, either, but that's no excuse."  
  
True. Definitely true. But something was  _not_  adding up here. "You'd been through a pretty rough time, too," Xander pointed out. "Okay, maybe nothing like this--" he gestured vaguely toward his eyepatch-- "but I don't remember any of us having a lot of fun back there."  
  
"We hadn't all lost someone quite as important to us as Anya was to you," Giles said, and guilt twisted in Xander's guts.   
  
Yeah. He'd known for a while now how much he sucked in that respect. He didn't need any reminders. "Anya wasn't--I mean, yeah, I'm, I was always going to care about her, but you know as well as I do that we weren't together."   
  
Giles didn't say anything; he didn't have to. The way he raised his eyebrow was enough to let Xander know that Giles, or someone, had seen them, that last night. Xander shook his head. "I don't know what that was, except that we thought we were all going to die, and--" He shrugged, just a little. "I know 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' is a shitty thing to say, considering, but..." But it had. But it had convinced him that he and Anya really were over. But he'd have preferred it if it had been Giles.   
  
But Anya was still dead, and while Xander was going to miss her forever, they hadn't had a future together, and he'd  _known_  that. And he'd known, for a while, that in a perfect world where he could have anything he wanted--in other words, the exact opposite of any world he had a chance of living in--he would have had a future with Giles. It hadn't even been all that surprising, because pretty much everything he'd ever found attractive in someone? Right there in one package: smart and geeky, capable of kicking serious ass, a little bit dangerous, prone to saying things that nobody understood, possessing a sense of humor that could not be understood by mere mortals (Xander was not going to forget that wizard outfit Giles had worn  _to work_ , not any time soon). And hot. If you liked guys with English accents and graying hair and glasses, and apparently, Xander did.   
  
Giles was still just looking at him, and Xander decided it might be time to finish his sentence. It was probably the only way he was ever going to get out of this conversation. "But whatever happened with me and Anya, it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that--what we did? I wanted that. Maybe not like that, maybe not right then, but--" He shook his head again; he couldn't quite believe that he'd been so stupid. "But when I woke up that morning, all I could think was that I hadn't had to  _tell_  you anything. You just knew, and you felt the same way, and maybe that was a sign that things would get better. But you didn't know anything, did you? You just started apologizing."   
  
He stopped talking, then, and stopped pacing as well; he just stood there, his arms folded, looking at Giles and waiting for him to answer.   
  
"I thought," Giles said, finally, "that I'd taken advantage of a friend who was suffering. That I'd convinced myself that he wanted the same things I did, when he was suffering and simply wanted comfort. And when you avoided me, that seemed like confirmation--and there was simply too much work to do here for me to take the time I thought sorting things out would require."  
  
Xander didn't say anything at first, trying to find a better way to phrase things than--"So what you're saying is, we're both fucking morons?"   
  
Giles laughed--not a lot, but it was actual laughter, and Xander couldn't remember the last time either of them had done that. "I wouldn't have put it that way."   
  
"Yeah, but I'm not wrong." Another pause, too long for Xander's comfort. "Am I?"   
  
"No," Giles said. "No, you're not wrong."   
  
That had to be a first. "So I'm guessing we have a lot to talk about," Xander said; all his earlier anger had dissipated, leaving him feeling a little shaky from the adrenaline--and, to be honest, from nerves. He'd never really had to  _start_  anything before; it had always just happened: kissing Cordelia in broom closets, Anya turning up and announcing that they should have sex, and before he knew it, he was dating someone. He'd thought, for a while back in the motel, that was how things were going to be with Giles, but he should have known better. There was no way Giles was going to let anything happen without them thinking about it. And talking about it. Two things Xander wasn't all that good at.   
  
"That seems like a reasonable guess," Giles said, but he was pushing Peanut off his lap--gently, but the cat still glared up at him, a fluffy orange ball of annoyance--and getting up, his hand warm and comforting on Xander's shoulder. Maybe talking wouldn't be that terrible, Xander thought, before reality intruded. Of course it would be terrible. But maybe he'd get through it okay. Besides, for every stupid thing he'd done, there was Giles and his "I'm too busy to find out why you hate me," thing, so he wouldn't be the only one feeling dumb.   
  
"It's late, though," Giles said, "and I've had a very long day. Perhaps we could do that tomorrow? Say, over breakfast? I know a place--"  
  
"That sounds great," Xander said, not really listening to him; he'd have agreed to anything to get to put off the detailed examination of how stupid he'd been for another twelve hours. "Breakfast. Great." And at least he'd have food; he wouldn't have to face embarrassment on an empty stomach.   
  
Giles kissed him, then, soft and slow where their earlier kiss had been sloppy and angry; if this was how Giles was going to get him to talk tomorrow, it might not be bad at all. "And tonight, I think an early night is in order," Giles went on.   
  
Xander nodded, though he didn't think  _he_  was going to get any sleep tonight. "Okay," he said. "'Night."  
  
Giles had already taken a couple of steps toward the doorway into the hall, but at that, he stopped with a somewhat exasperated sigh. "Xander, I was trying for a subtle hint that you might want to come with me," he said.  
  
Xander wondered if an actual light bulb had just appeared above his head, or if it just felt that way. "Oh! Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Right behind you."  
  
Peanut, apparently, was right behind them; he nearly darted between Xander's feet and into Giles' room, but Xander managed to grab him and gently toss him back down the hall. "Sorry, buddy," Xander said. "Your dads need a little private time."   
  
From inside the bedroom, he heard Giles call, "I am  _not_  that cat's father."   
  
"Sorry," Xander said, but he was grinning, anyway. They'd wear him down, one of these days.   
  
"One of these days." For the first time since Utah--for the first time in a long time--it had a pretty good sound to it. 

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


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